


Burning in the Night

by BeautyInChains



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Banter, Frottage, Grinding, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Steve Harrington's ridiculous swim trunks, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: "You see something you like?""Christ, you're a fucking cheeseball. That line work on the ladies, Harrington?""No," Steve snorts, running a hand through his hair, "But it works on you."Billy grins back despite himself, "Yeah, maybe."





	Burning in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Winter is upon us. I don't know about you, but where I live it is cold and white and I just needed some hot, sweaty summer loving.
> 
> The drill: unbeta'd, con-crit/comments/kudos most welcome
> 
> Title has been borrowed from mentioned Iron Maiden's Children of the Damned
> 
> I really can't get enough of these boys <3 Hope you enjoy!

In the summer of '85 Hawkins, Indiana gets hit with a heat wave. It's one of the hottest summers since the record high of 116 in 1936. Billy, Cali boy through and through, is ecstatic. This is what he lives for. For the summer sun beating down on his bare back, slowly baking his skin a golden brown. For late night beers around glowing bonfires. For cruising down the highway at 3am with the windows down, that sweet summer air licking at his sweat while the opening chords of Children of the Damned flood his ears.

Steve, on the other hand, is miserable. His body seems unable to cope with the heat. His nose and the tips of his ears are burnt a deep pink now more often than not. He sweats profusely. The sweat seems to collect along his hairline and trickles down his temples, tickles its way down the nape of his neck, the length of his back. He sweats in places he had previously thought himself incapable of sweating. The collars and underarms of his shirts grow damp and sticky and uncomfortable within minutes of putting them on and so Steve puts it upon himself to wear the bare minimum.

And Billy fucking loves it. How could he not? His boyfriend's beautiful body on display nearly 24/7, every edge and dip and curve glistening with sweat. Billy could spend hours counting all the little moles and freckles painting Steve's pale skin, spend even more hours tracing them with his tongue.

It's getting late. The sun is starting to set, sky burning a bright orange beyond the trees.

Billy smiles as he takes in the sight of Steve, splayed out on a towel next to the pool in the tiniest, most obnoxiously yellow swim trunks he could have possibly purchased. His eyes are closed behind his gold Ray Bans, arm thrown up and over his mussed hair, which has grown untamable in the heat. Even Farrah Fawcett can't help him now.

Billy licks his lips, eyeing up the tantalizing length of Steve's body. A dark thatch of chest hair is starting to come in and it matches the trail that begins just below his belly button and ends somewhere beyond the waistband of his trunks. Between the sweat and pool water Steve's trunks cling to his body in a way that leave very little to the imagination and the swell of his cock and balls beneath that stupid, yellow abomination has Billy's mouth watering.

He's been staring for too long, he realizes, when Steve rolls over onto his belly, pushing his Ray Bans down his nose so his eyes can meet Billy's baby blues. He grins as he props himself up on his forearms, "You're awful quiet today. You've been staring at me for ages."

Billy tilts his head to the side, humming in a noncommittal sort of way.

"You see something you like?"

"Christ, you're a fucking cheese ball. That line work on the ladies, Harrington?"

"No," Steve snorts, running a hand through his hair, "But it works on you."

Billy grins back despite himself, "Yeah, maybe."

They're quiet for a while. The silence between them is comfortable as they study one another. Mere months ago Billy wouldn't have allowed himself this simple pleasure; the action too queer, in more ways than one. But a lot has changed since then. Billy has changed.

"You wanna get wet with me?"

That hasn't changed.

"Who's running lines now, Hargrove?"

Billy waggles his tongue at Steve as he stands. It's obscene. It's effective. He jumps in without a second thought, hitting the water in a smooth dive. The cool water splashes up and over Steve's toes. And yeah. He wants to get wet. Steve drops his shades onto his towel and slips back into the pool as Billy comes up for air shaking his wet curls, expression bright and happy. He swims over, caging Steve against the edge of the pool with his muscular arms and Steve gasps as Billy's body brushes against his, "Hey, Pretty Boy."

"Hey, dickhead."

"Mmm, that's not very nice, baby," Billy murmurs, licking the pool water from his lips. He brushes his nose against Steve's gently, not wanting to irritate his sunburn. Steve's pink lips are parted, waiting. He can feel Billy's breath ghosting against his face, cooling the sweat there. Billy drags his lips against Steve's lightly, allowing the touch amp up the electricity between them. Steve moans softly. Billy swipes his tongue along Steve's jaw, up his temple tasting sweat and chlorine. Steve's panting hard already, cock throbbing where it's pushed up against Billy's hipbone.

"Oh yeah," Billy says, "You like that, Pretty Boy? My mouth on you?"

"Fuck, Billy." Billy licks his way down Steve's throat, sucking up the salty sweat glistening in the hollow, tracing the lines of Steve's collar bones. Billy smirks, pleased with himself as Steve's hips start hitching into his.

"That's it, baby. Grind on me."

"Oh my God," Steve moans, throwing his head back, fingers tangling in Billy's hair. Billy grunts as Steve's cock drags against his own. Everything feels hot and wet and perfect. Steve hooks one of his long legs behind Billy's knee, holds him in close as he rocks a bit harder. Billy drops his head into Steve's chest, sucks one of his tight little nipples into his mouth, "Oh,  _fuck_. Fuck!"

Billy lets his arms sink beneath the water to grip Steve's rolling hips.

"Billy," Steve says breathlessly.

"What is it, baby?"

"'m close."

"I know, I know. Me too."

Billy's lips find Steve's, tongue pushing into his mouth and fucking hotly against Steve's. Billy swallows every whimper, every moan. Billy kisses Steve like he wants to devour him, body and soul. His mouth feels hotter in this moment than the midday sun and Steve's burning up. Billy breaks the kiss with a wet gasp.

Billy watches Steve's expression raptly; the deep furrow of his brow, the scrunch of his eyelids, the tremble of his lips. Every tiny detail coils deep and low in his belly, bringing him that much closer. Billy wonders fleetingly if he's going to come before Steve, but then Steve's body goes tight and still against him, head back and throat bared as a choked off moan leaves his lips. Billy can feel the way Steve's cock seems to kick up against his, pulsing hard as he spurts into his trunks.

The heat Billy feels rolls up and over his entire body, ears buzzing, body alight as he grinds frantically against Steve's hip.

"Come on, sweetheart," Steve murmurs, lips brushing over Billy's flushed cheek.

It's embarrassing, and he'll deny it, but its the endearment that tips him over the edge. He bites down into Steve's shoulder with a grunt as he spills, hips pumping through his orgasm until he's well and truly spent.

Billy clings to Steve, the water cradling them weightlessly.

Steve strokes his hands over Billy's strong shoulders, down his back, "You're all pink."

"No shit, Sherlock," Billy snorts, "'s'what happens when you blow your load."

Steve shakes his head as he laughs, dark hair tickling Billy's face as he does, "God, you're an idiot. No, I think you're actually sunburnt."

"I look like fuckin' Snow White to you?"

Steve raises a brow as he presses his thumb into the pink, tender looking skin of Billy's shoulder and smirks when Billy hisses. Steve flicks Billy's earring,  _I told you so_.

"You keep your fuckin' mouth shut, Harrington."

"Make me, _sweetheart_."

Billy ignores the way that word warms him head to toe in favor of digging his fingers into Steve's ribs in a vicious tickle, "You're on, Pretty Boy."


End file.
